 UK Fly Fishing: Antique Gear On A Sepia Sunday
Posted by piscatorbilly on December 09, 2006
If you could close your eyes and think about it, you’d see the day in your min’s eye; on the other hand it’d be really difficult to read this article. The day was a classic late Summer’s day. The breeze was gentle, the sky blue, and the birch were showing off the first signs of Autumn gold. I had done the garden: I had cut the grass, trimmed what felt like an infinite length of hedge, and my domestic conscience was clear. It was time to head off to the river. There are two beats of roughly equal length; one where there are fish to be caught, and the other where fish are few and far between. The second beat is classic trout water. The water is quite fast, falling about 8 feet over half a mile, it is crystal clear and deep enough to have to wade with care ! For reasons will may become obvious, I chose the second beat. I had, over the Winter, been Internet fishing. I’d been surfing all sorts of websites hungry for piscatorial pleasures. Once I was sated with tales of others’ prowess, I turned my credit card loose. The card, it would seem, had found a 1962 Hardy Halford Knockabout 9” 6’ class 7 Palakona
split cane rod. On its arrival, the price seemed a little steep as the whipping on the bottom ferrule was a repair – and one which had been accomplished with some difficulty on a dark night in an ill-lit room by a man who had sat on his glasses before doing the job. However, a friend sent off to America to procure the right silk, and the repair was undertaken again with total success. So, on this particular Sunday when the mountain ash and the elder were heavy with berries, I was taking my vintage rod ‘out for a spin’ for the first time. I don’t have a Morgan, or an MG, or a Triumph TR 4a but I would like one, because now I understand why people buy these cars which have no mod cons and demand ‘Sepia Sundays’ for their eccentricities to be fully appreciated. My credit card had bought this rod knowing little about split cane rods, but having read many of the books which feature them. There is a sort of therapeutic nostalgia to be gained from reading old fishing books. And, on days when reading is too much like hard work, you can look at the pictures. Looking at the pictures was my undoing, as they used to say in Victorian public schools. You see I have spent many a happy hour leafing through the works of W.H. Lawrie, Eric Horsfall Turner, F.W. Holiday, William B. Currie, looking at the black and white plates. One of the things you notice is that everything in those days was ‘sturdy’: the tweed jackets, the heavy cotton white shirts, the heartily knotted ties, lodden moleskins, serviceable Wellington boots, and the robust cane rod. The pre and post war eras were a time when everything was British made and made to last … so it didn’t wear out, it wasn’t light, or breathable, and robust countrymen could fish all day for a florin, or perhaps a little more, so long as the coin were in denominations of shillings, divisible by twelve, and preferably represented by heavy and durable coins with enough sides to please your geometry teacher. So, why was I going fishing on Sepia Sunday? In part I suppose the reasons are sentimental, the photos reminding me of fishing with my Dad on the Lathkill in Derbyshire, having arrived there in a Vauxhall Viva redolent with the nauseous smell of plastic, petrol, and pipe tobacco. Partly, having read the literature, this was a Sunday when I would try to get into the heads of these mid-twentieth century authors. For these reasons, then, catching fish was not really very important. And who’s to say, catching a fish of size might mean the demise of my vintage prize and time machine. On arriving at the river, I tackled up. I reverently took the golden rod from its emminently serviceable Army green canvas bag with quaint little top pocket, and set the two parts together. I noticed then that the male ferrule sported a little retractable pin to secure it in place once it was fully inserted into the female. Sensible one feels. Only recently I broke a new second-hand Vision graphite rod precisely because the two parts were ferrules worked loose while I was fishing and the lower male broke the female upper housing. Even as I set off up stream I could feel that the weight of the rod was quite different from my modern rods, and as it flexed I could feel already that the action would be quite another too. On beginning to fish, I immediately noticed the greater length of the rod, the comparative slowness of its action, and a tendency for that action to come in stages. The first stage, on lifting the rod, was the flex starting at the butt and ending in the tip as I pulled the line clear of the water. The second stage was the ‘bulge’, at 1 o’clock on stopping the rod, in the mid section before the tip took over. Finally, there was the ‘wobble’ as these actions were reversed in order as the cast was made. And again the weight. I felt like a beginner more than once, when the forward action resulted in dipping the tip in the water. I had to take myself back to basics, and think through all my Dad’s tuition and advice on casting in my formative years to manage this rod. This quick review brought home to me with some force the emphasis on technique that these rods required of the fisherman. Quickly, I got used to this new and unaccustomed action, and even caught some small brownies of around 8 inches (takeable in Denmark is 12”). The sun was warm, the air soft, and the surroundings idyllic; with Hardy rod in hand I really began to feel like the keeper of the stream. Mentally, it was the most relaxing fishing I have ever experienced. My expectation was that I would catch nothing, so as I returned the beautifully marked fish I caught, I felt quite uplifted. After only three hours I returned to the car imbued with a sense of awe. The split cane fishermen of yore knew their business, and it’s no surprise that Hardy became an important name in fishing – not least because the word describes the practitioners of our sport. The split cane boys were a rugged and hardy breed, an image that does not seem to shine through in the pictures. That rod is heavy and a full day’s fishing would require both mental and physical strength beyond the demands of a mere graphite rod. But my Hardy is a rod I shall use again, more for mediation and mental repair than for catching fish, because with it I can briefly become ‘the keeper of the dream’. Currie William B 1969 A Gamefisher’s Year Pelham Books Holiday F W 1960 River-Fishing for Sea-trout Herbert Jenkins Lawrie W H 1947 Rough Stream Nymph Oliver and Boyd Turner, Eric Horsfall 1966 Angler’s Cavalcade A&C Black
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Re: UK Fly Fishing: Antique Gear On Sepia Sunday
by jeremy on December 09, 2006 http://www.ineedasimplesolution.com | piscatorbilly - excellent read ... i would imagine that there is much opportunity in the UK for fly fishing nostalgia and appreciation for preservation of times gone past. i look forward to the day when i can cast a fly line into some of the beats of which you speak or other similar beats with ... for me, the most rewarding part of that experience will be just being there and having the opportunity to fly fish in your region of the world that is so rich with fly fishing heritage and history ....... i too would appreciate the surroundings of the "second beat" and forgoe "more" fish for more asthetic environs and fewere fish ... i hope to someday find myself in the ........
"classic trout water where the water is quite fast, falling about 8 feet over half a mile, it is crystal clear and deep enough to have to wade with care"
.... excellent work with the pen ... |
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